


Hand Over Fist

by grumpyhedgehogs



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, CC-2224 | Cody Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Comrades in Arms, Could be seen as romantic, Devotion, Gen, Holding Hands, Hurt CC-2224 | Cody, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Loyalty, Major Character Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mud, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Platonic Relationships, Protective CC-2224 | Cody, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective clones, Protectiveness, Rain, Restricted Movement, Time Skips, War, Whatever you want to see it as, bodies, codywan - Freeform, crawling through a battlefield, difficulty breathing, it's about the inherent eroticism of holding hands while dying, lost sight, no one dies, snapshot fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyhedgehogs/pseuds/grumpyhedgehogs
Summary: Cody is one step behind Obi-Wan Kenobi in all things.
Relationships: 212th Attack Battalion & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 423





	Hand Over Fist

Cody is one step behind Obi-Wan Kenobi in all things. 

He feels safest following his commanding officer, one step behind and to the right. He slotted into the space at Kenobi’s shoulder immediately after the first battle the Jedi led them into and simply never left. His home is at Kenobi’s side, one step behind. He’s always been prepared to follow Obi-Wan wherever he goes.

So it is no surprise to him that, one moment after he sees Kenobi go down in the field, a blaster bolt rips into his own side and tears its way out of him again. His ribs cave, his knees buckle, and Cody falls. Pain lances through him when his shoulder jars against the solid rock underneath him; Cody jostles, cries out, and slumps on his side. 

It’s hard to figure out what’s going on; rain lashes against his face, and even through his armor and his blacks his skin is going numb. It’s a mixed bag--on the one hand, the numbing cold means the blaster wound doesn’t hurt half as much as it should, but on the other he can’t assess the actual damage if he can’t feel anything. His right arm doesn’t have full range of movement, and when he’d landed on his left hand something had made an ominous snapping sound. His elbow had gone out from under him right after. The storm that had rolled in on them soon after the bombardment had started is darkening rather than letting up, and paired with the wind driving the rain nearly sideways, his visibility is down to nil. 

Cody has lost sight of Obi-Wan.

The thought sticks with him as the haze settles over his mind. Cody drifts in a strange grey fog, pain clouding him. The sounds of blaster fire and his brothers’ shouts are distant now; he feels the rumble of machinery through the ground beneath him, but it’s far away. Moving hurts too much; it radiates a stabbing agony up through his chest, spreads into his throat and his lungs and his mouth. It tastes of copper. He breathes through it, and drifts.

Cody has lost sight of Obi-Wan.

He should have passed out by now. Cody knows this, just as he knows he’s lost time. He isn’t unconscious, not yet, not like he should be, but he’s not all there. The fog is less painful now. The fog is kind.

Cody has lost sight of Obi-Wan.

The rain slows down. Mud splashes against Cody’s face, clogs his mouth, and sets off a coughing fit. It coats the side of his head, spreads to his nostrils and blocks his breath. Water seeps into the seams of his lips, and when he opens his mouth to try to clear his airways, it tries to drown him. He jackknifes in an attempt to get upright and screams as the wound pulls at his gut. He feels something tear again. He flops back, limp like a dead fish. Someone is letting out a pathetic sounding whimper nearby.

Cody has lost sight of Obi-Wan.

It takes precious minutes for Cody to catch his breath again. The fog has been wiped away, but he still can’t see very well. There are bodies around him, looming out of the darkness like distant mountain ranges. He can only raise his head a few inches, collapsed prone as he is, but he just needs something--some sign, anything--

_There._

There is little light left, but the burning silver of a dropped lightsaber is a sight Cody’s gotten used to over time. He could pick it out with his eyes closed now. The weapon almost taunts him, lying less than a klick away. Obi-Wan must be nearby; Cody had been sprinting to catch up when the Jedi fell. Cody just needs to find him.

_This lightsaber is your life_ , Obi-Wan’s lecture to Skywalker echoes in his head. Cody isn’t in the business of leaving his general’s life unprotected. 

Turning over is the worst part. He knows without trying that he’s not going to be able to get his feet under him, so crawling it is. Cody digs his elbow into the ground beneath him, now thankful that the rain has softened the mud enough from him to sink a grip into it. It’s just enough leverage to topple himself on his front, but his ribs scream in protest when his weight bears down on them. Black and white spots flood Cody’s vision and he thinks he must yell again, but he’s not sure. He’s probably lost his voice by now anyway. The copper taste is back. He spits the blood out when his eyes clear enough to pick up that silver glint again. Cody’s thoughts fluctuate wildly, but the one thing he can latch onto is the spine-tingling fear that if he loses sight of the weapon again it might get lost in the dirt and the mud and the rain. He might lose Obi-Wan.

His left wrist is swollen to nearly twice its size but the cold is working with Cody, allowing him to dig his forearms into the mud above his head without too much pain. Reach out with his right makes the wound pull again and there’s a gush of warmth against the numb skin of his abdomen, so shocking it sets off pins and needles. His blood is mixing with the dust of this Force-forsaken planet. He knows it is the blood of one _vod_ among many. 

Cody keeps his eyes on Obi-Wan’s lightsaber.

Hand over hand, fistful of mud after fistful of mud, Cody drags himself across the battlefield. His progress is painstaking, pulling and digging into his wound, especially when he crawls over rocks he can’t make out in the dimness. He has to push the limbs of unresponsive fallen soldiers out of the way. The rain trickles into Cody’s eyes but he can’t blink, can’t afford to take his gaze off the one sign he has that Obi-Wan was ever here with him in the first place.

_“Kote?”_

The harsh whisper comes from somewhere on his left. Drained and gasping, inhaling more dirt than air at this point, Cody pauses, body falling momentarily limp. He rests his temple on his bicep, but doesn’t look around even though he opens his mouth, because the saber is only a little farther now. He could get there in twenty minutes if he kept up the pace--he just needs to rest for a minute. Just a minute.

“Who’s there?” He rasps. His throat feels like the quartermaster took sandpaper to it.

“Boil, _Kote.”_

Cody breathes. The black lump at the edge of his vision twitches; he sees his brother's head turn towards him but he can’t make out Boil’s face. He can hear the fear in his voice clear enough anyway. _“Cody!”_

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m awake.”

“Good. Can’t--can’t fall asleep now.”

“The General went down.” Cody is scared to blink, but the saber is still there when he opens his eyes again. Boil swears faintly. “I can see his _jetii’kad_.”

“He’s gotta be near.” Boil finishes for him and Cody feels absurdly grateful. It’s getting even harder to breathe. More warmth rushes out of his wound and meets the mud. His brother has to pause between each word to breathe and Cody clings to each rattling noise it makes in Boil’s chest. “Can you make it?”

“I will.” There is no other option.

The lump that is his brother moves again, wriggling towards him, and Boil says, “Here. Let me help.”

Boil’s grip on his left arm slips twice, slick from rainwater. He pulls so hard Cody thinks he might pop it right out of the socket, but Boil gets him a yard or two forward all the same, so he doesn’t mention it. Cody grunts his thanks and as he steels himself, reaching out for new handfuls of mud and rock, he feels Boil’s shove at his knees propel him just that bit farther. 

As he struggles forward, Boil’s voice rings out with new volume. He is hoarse, faltering, but his words make the brothers Cody can make out on the ground nearby startle. _“Commander’s going for the General! Help him.”_

Boil breaks down coughing after that, sounding too wet and deep, and then the noise is carried off by the wind and Cody can’t think about it anymore. Just beyond the silver of the lightsaber, he sees another body. There are pale fingers lying on the ground, curled slightly, reaching for the Jedi weapon; Cody’s heart thumps hard enough that it might break right out of his abused ribcage. 

More hands push and pull at him as Cody drags himself across the battlefield. Waxer whispers some encouragement at him from near his left ear. The _vode_ work together to haul Cody towards their Jedi as fast as their injuries allow. But in the end, the last few yards are void of any allies, and Cody has to pull his own weight to the end of the line.

The lightsaber is cold in his grip, even colder than Cody himself; it would’ve been warm if it were in use recently. Cody is unsure of how long it’s been since Obi-Wan went down. He pulls the weapon to his chest, uncaring of the awkward position as he lunges the last few inches towards the body beyond. Agony flares through him. The fingers are limp in his grip as Cody clutches at them; his gloves make it hard to tell the temperature of the body. But when he tugs, gasping for breath, they flinch and twitch in his. 

“ _General_.”

“ _Cody._ You came to get me.” 

His Jedi’s voice curls around his name with familiar warmth, surprise coloring it. Cody tries to form his mouth into a smirk but he can’t feel his lips. “Always, General.”

“You’re hurt.”

Obi-Wan says it like it’s tenfold worse than his own injuries. Cody doesn’t have the heart to roll his eyes. 

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Ah. Well, in that case I shan’t worry, shall I?”

“No.” The hand in his has none of Kenobi’s usual strength, but Cody hasn’t been able to feel his own fingertips in hours now, so he’ll overlook the weakness in Obi-Wan’s grip for now. He squeezes, though, as much he can, and after a horrible pause, Obi-Wan squeezes back. “You don’t ever have to worry about me, Obi-Wan.”

“I think I will anyway, if you don’t mind terribly.” Obi-Wan tries to shift and lets out a little weak sound. Cody pulls on his fingers in warning and the Jedi settles. “Apologies,” Obi-Wan gasps, strained. “I’m not--not at my best, or I’d--”

“Don’t.” In this moment Cody is not above begging. “Just rest. Just rest.”

“I’ve been stargazing.” The sentence is a non sequitur. Or is it? Cody is so tired. He might have lost time again; the fog is returning, licking at the edges of his vision. He takes a deep inhale, holds it until his ribs feel like they’re about to break through his skin, and lets it out. The fog recedes. 

“What?”

“The stars,” Obi-Wan repeats, voice barely there. Cody’s not sure what liquid he feels seeping into his gloves as he grips at the Jedi’s hand, if it’s mud or blood or water. He holds on as tightly as he can. “The rain’s stopped--look at the stars.”

Rolling over isn’t any easier the second time around, but his general has asked it of him and Cody would do anything for his general. The sky, not clear of clouds, is at least done releasing a downpour. There’s a break in the clouds above them; moonlight slinks through it and tiny pinpricks of white stand out against the black. Obi-Wan’s grip had gotten stronger when he’d groaned as he shifted, and his fingers only relax marginally when Cody confirms he is watching the stars now too. The battle is ending, growing quieter. It is as if Cody is in a bubble of paradise right in the middle of hell: his Jedi holds him, the numbness gives way to warmth, and the stars watch over them both. A dreadful, joyful calm washes over him and Cody thinks--thinks--

_If I have to die,_ Cody thinks, muzzily, _I’d like to die like this._

He doesn’t die, of course.

Cody opens his eyes some time later without quite realizing he has closed them, and squints against the blazing white of Medical. His body is stiff, but numb no longer; every inch of him screams. Cody’s teeth grind down but he stifles the cry of pain before it can claw its way out of him. Turning his head makes his neck protest but it means he can see his brothers, at least half of the 212th, bundled into cots just like his. The blue of the 501st’s uniforms makes relief flood his stomach when Cody spies Kix leaning over Boil. Waxer, sitting up in bed across from him, gives him a little wave when Cody catches his eyes. His brother points over Cody’s head.

Cody turns, weary and flagging. On his other side, obviously not supposed to be upright, is the bandaged and battered form of Jedi High General Obi-Wan Kenobi. A few yards behind him there rests an empty cot, the blanket thrown hastily back. Obi-Wan’s face is bruised and swollen, and his foot is propped up at the end of Cody’s bed, bandages swathing the ankle. Kenobi is shirtless, his right shoulder, bicep, and pectoral heavily bandaged; scarlet droplets are seeping through the carefully applied linen already. Obi-Wan slumps in his seat, listing slightly to the side with his eyes closed. 

His hand is wrapped firmly around Cody’s.

Cody sighs, settles, and breathes easy.


End file.
